Mortals Can't Eat the Rain
by Late Night Child
Summary: He wanted Sam, where was he? Couldn’t he hear him screaming? Was he screaming? Why wasn’t he screaming? Scream damn you! SCREAM!GenderSwapDean. Wincest. Rape. BrotherlyLove
1. Mom

A/N: If you have read my work then you should know what I'm into, and this story is no different. It does not have the Best start, but it may very well be redone. This is a first draft, so it kind of sucks...I'm working on it.

WARNING: WINCEST!!! And not in a very sexy way, in the twisted way (or maybe the sexy way if your perverce beyond comprehension) Gender-Swap (no sam and dean will not be doing the nasty...maybe...damnit). Rape. Deanabuse.

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Dean should have known better, he always used to know better, he was twenty-one, it was a rookie mistake, a mistake that fifteen year old Dean would have made, and yet somehow he had, and now there was a price for his idiocy. 

Sam couldn't stop laughing; you couldn't pay Sam to stop laughing at this point.

"Shut up Sammy, this is serious!" Dean was about ready to pound his little brothers face in.

But Sam couldn't stop. His brother was a girl, a very short, extremely skinny, and very angry. Girl.

Dean bit his lip, hating Sammy more at that moment then he ever had. Deep in his new guts he was scared, the Lemming had managed to bite him, getting its DNA altering salvia into his blood, it was a known fact that they did this, but there was no documented proof, mostly because it happened to men, and once it did, they would just up and disappear. There was no known cure, he could be stuck like this forever and Sam just kept laughing.

Sam did, however, stop laughing when he heard the bathroom door slam shut. It slowly dawned on him just how horrible he was being to Dean. He must have been scared, and yet here he was, laughing away.

"Dean?" Sam knocked on the door.

"Fuck off Sam!" Sam was thrown aback, his brother had yelled at him before, a lot before, almost every day, sometimes twice, but never like this. The words dripped with such venom that it nearly melted the walls.

Inside Dean had perched himself on the sink, curling up on the hard porcelain. He didn't want to stare at himself in the mirror, he wanted to pretend just a little longer, but his own reflection caught his eye, and it nearly made him cry.

"Mom…" Dean bit his lip as Sam hit the door some more. God hated him; he had to of, to do something like this, to him, why? It was so cruel.

"Dean, I'm sorry, I'll call dad okay, he's just out at a bar, he'll be here soon."

"No!" Dean hadn't wanted to open the door, nor had he meant to fall on his ankle while jumping off the sink, or be shaking.

Sam jumped back, the cell phone falling from his fingers, again he saw his new female brother, only this time it wasn't all that funny, it wasn't funny at all.

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times before his new voice came out. "Just don't call him yet, okay?" It was high, he hated it.

No, not okay, Sam thought. "He's going to find out."

"I know, I know, I just…never mind…" Dean let his head hang, his new hair shadowing and covering his face. He liked that. His ankle hurt.

"Okay," Sam picked up the phone and closed it, setting it on one of the nightstands. He turned back to his brother, who looked so utterly defeated; it made him want to cry. His brother, who also seemed to be leaning heavily on the doorknob.

"Dean is your ankle all right?" Sam moved closer.

"No." Dean never told Sam these things, to Sam Dean was indestructible, could never be hurt, always got back up, but now, seeing him look so confused, so sickeningly small, it made Sam's fingers itch.

"Come sit down." Sam had expected Dean to pull away, like he always did, but he didn't, he followed, and sat down.

Sam felt odd taking Dean's shoe off, they were barely on as it was, his new feet were tiny.

Sam pulled the equally large socks off his brother's foot, and found, to his worry and relief, a sprained ankle.

Sam wrapped his brother up in silence; there were no words that could have been spoken, so they didn't speak.

Thirty minutes later Dean couldn't stop squirming.

"Dude, Dean, stop it." Sam pushed his brother, it was a mystery how they ended up on the same bed.

"I can't help it." Dean chose to keep his eyes on the TV, not wanting to look at his brother, the last thing he wanted to tell him was the truth.

Sam couldn't help it, he was a little mad when dad came back. Dean had finally relaxed some what, and with a barefaced entrance that consisted of dropping a weeks worth of groceries on the floor, Dean had managed to stiffen and cast his eyes back down again.

But it was what John said after seeing Dean, it was awful.

"Mary?" His voice broke over itself.

Sam had never seen such guilt on a persons face before. In his eyes Dean screamed, I'm sorry, I'm not mom, mom is dead, I'm me, only me, nothing better, I'm not what you want, I'm the last thing you want, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

Sam noticed the way Dean leaned in closer to him, as though to try and shield himself from his fathers pain, to protect himself from the pain. To disapear.

"Dean?" John moved closer to the bed that held his two sons, tears shining in his eyes.

He was beautiful, just like she was beautiful.

"My god…you look…"

"I know." Dean still couldn't seem to look up. It hurt too much. Sam hadn't noticed, he'd been too worried, he'd been too scared, but now, he saw it, and it was everywhere.

"What-"

"It bit me."

"The lemming?"

"Yeah."

"Stand up."

Dean half expected a blow to the face the second he stood up, and was surprised beyond comprehension when his father had chosen to hug him instead. Old memories flooded Deans psyche, memories of once good times, even the bad times, when his father used to hug him, he couldn't remember the last time, but he vowed to remember this time.

Sam sat there, stunned, and deep down, scared. He didn't know why, but for some reason, he hated this hug.

John released his son and looked into his eyes, for the first time in a long time. But they weren't his son's eyes, and yet on his face was the biggest smile his sons had ever seen before, or could remember.

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It's going to get better! I promis! And depending the the reviews (REVIEWS!!!) this MAY be a sam/dean fic. Anyways as you can see this isnt going to be some dumb gay "your a girl, lets touch eachother" fic, this is going to be realistic, and strangly erotic...reviews for me please! 


	2. Of lost shoes and rain

A/N: I hope you liked the last chapter, cus I kinda didnt. Anyways, let us continue

WARNING:...theres really none for this chapter, this ones kinda cute actually...

Disclaimer: I own nothing, because if I did there would be cowboy hats...

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"Were going to figure this out, I promise, don't worry. All right?"

Dean nodded his head, Sam scrunched his brow, and their father smiled for hours.

* * *

Sam was angry when he was told to sleep in the other bed, Sam couldn't remember the last time him and Dean had slept in separate beds, but now, there father was hunched over on the couch, Dean was to his right, and for the first time, Sam was alone.

Dean was the only one that slept that night. John stayed up half the night flipping through books and watching Dean, and Sam spent half the night watching John.

Morning only woke the new female member of the family. Dean woke up knowing he was still a girl, there was no crestfallenness about it, it just was.

Sam, at some odd hour of the early morning had joined their father in research, which as of so far, had given them nothing.

Both Sam and John tried not to listen as Dean creped into the bathroom.

"Find anything?" Neither Sam or John had looked back up from their respectable screen or book since Dean had wandered into the bathroom the first time, but as he requested acknowledgment, they saw the new girl in the morning light, and it was like a dream, or a nightmare.

Dean had on what could only be guessed as boxers under a pair of tightly wound gray sweat pants, and two wife beaters. His new long hair was tied up in god knows what, and he had his arms wrapped tightly around his new slim waist.

"How did you sleep?" John sounded like this was just some normal day.

"F-fine." Dean stuttered.

"I was thinking we should go today." John declared, standing from the couch.

"Go where?" Sam asked, looking up at his dad.

"Well, there's a cabin about four hours from here, I was thinking we could go there until this whole thing is sorted out, sound good to you guys?"

Dean looked surprised, a good surprised. They hadn't taken a break from hunting since Sam had gotten a talon through his foot, and even then it was only for two days.

"Sounds good to me." Dean declared, and it was decided.

Dean was a little surprised at how happy he felt to be back behind the wheel of him impala, it always made him feel better, and four hours of calm driving would do him good, at lease, that would have been the case if Sam had decided to take dads tuck instead.

"Come on tiny Dean, move the seat back a little." Sam twisted his long legs around in front of him.

"Call me that again and I'm going to throw you out the window."

Dean had had to move the seat up to reach the peddles, a fact that Sam was never planning on letting die, only now the joined seats were close to the front of the car, and Sam's long legs were not taking it very well.

"I have long legs Dean." Sam whined.

"I know."

"Well then-"

Dean turned the music up, smiling a little from behind his bangs.

Upon the first fourteen minutes of their arrival both Sam and Dean had thrown their things onto their apparent beds and scurried outside to explore the surroundings.

The first hour of the exploring went well, both Sam and Dean felt like little kids as they jumped over small brooks and tried to catch toads. They spotted and identified tracks, followed trails and laughed like they were ten again.

By the second hour Dean had lost both his shoes, one got stuck in the mud and slid right off his tiny foot, and the other got stuck in the same mud puddle while trying to get the first shoe out.

As the third hour rolled around the two boys could be seen trudging back to the cabin in the light sprinkle, one without shoes on the others back.

It had been funny watching Dean maneuver around sharp rocks for a while, until Dean's sprained ankle made itself known again as he hissed every time his left foot found the ground.

"Get on."

Dean looked at his brother like he was crazy as he slouched down in front of him.

"No."

"Its slippery, your hurt, get on."

Dean did.

The venture back had not been a pleasant one, Sam's constant comments about Dean's weight being easily compared to a feather was earning him a savage series of kicks.

"I could throw you over the car I bet." Sam hoisted a slipping Dean easily back onto a comfortable position on his back.

Dean pulled Sam's mopey hair, only may more so by the drizzle.

"We should try it when we get back tiny Dean."

The heel of Deans "tiny" foot collided with Sam's groin, sending both Sam and Dean plummeting into the mud.

After Sam had made nice with the mud and sticks now violating his mouth Deans lips found themselves colliding with the back of Sam's head. For a few seconds, both brothers saw stars.

Sam slowly lifted himself from the mud, the mud, however, seemed to be quite content with sticking to every part of his frontal anatomy. Sam rolled over, only to have the lump on has back move to the lump on his lap as Dean hovered in the mud on his knees babying his lip.

Sam was fully prepared to yell the hell out of Dean until he saw the blood and mud on his chin. Then all that was left was the Winchester worry, where women always seem to reside.

"You okay Dean?" Sam sat up a little, trying to pull Deans hand from his lip so he could see.

"I'm fine." Dean's voice was adorable muffled by his hand.

"Just let me-" Sam had made the mistake of forgetting that Dean was on top of him, and sitting straight up, would send Dean on his back, which was now currently where Dean was, and very unhappy about it.

"Dean I-" was about as far as Sam got before a ball of mud was thrown at his face.

Well as you know ladies and gentlemen, this means war.

The two rolled around in the mud together laughing for as long as they needed to. There was no anger left as they wrestled one another on the mud, screaming and shouting in way that a child would. Loud to the point that it was obvious that they didn't care who heard them.

Dean, covered in mud, even in his ears, being carried by Sam, covered in mud, even in his shoes, marched back to the cabin, to be greeted by there father, who could do nothing but laugh.

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Was that not adorible? Tell me it wasnt. I'm sorry for those who wanted a sam fucks dean but as of now, thats not the plot. It may change though...REVIEW!!! 


	3. Once bitten, twice shy

A/N: YAY were getting a little more twisted now. Anyways, this chapter could be worst, but I mushed it up a little.

Warning: Light toughing, later on, more toughing.

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Sam and Dean sat in the rain as it began to fall a little harder on their filthy little heads.

"The hose or the rain, children." Had been John's terms, the boys had chosen rain.

Sam couldn't take his eyes off his brother, still covered in mud, wet, looking at the sky with his eyes closed. Sam wouldn't say it out loud, but he liked the smaller Dean. The normal Dean would have never let him carry him back on his back, he would have scuffed and hurt his ankle even more for the sake of pride.

Sam loved, beyond comprehension, the idea of Dean being so small, so easily lifted, so easily cared for.

"Why do you keep staring at me like that Sam?"

Sam's eyes quickly moved back to Dean's face, which much to his humiliation, was tainted a light red.

"No reason…"

Dean leveled his eyes and brought his arms up to cover his chest, very happy that he had chosen to wear two wife beaters instead of one.

"It's not that!" Sam smack his hand over his mouth the second the words had come out.

"What?" Dean tightened his grasp on himself. He hated the breasts most of all, he felt like everyone was staring at them.

"It's just nice, you being so small."

"Sammy, I've been shorter then you for like, two years."

"No, no not like that, I just mean, I don't know that I mean." Sam feel backwards into the grass, splashes of water rained around him. He had never felt so embarrassed in all his life in front of his brother, including the time he had walked in on him pulling some girls hand out of his pants.

"You're a weird one Sammy…" Dean muttered as he stood up, now wet instead of muddy.

"Takes one to know one!" Sam yelled back as he got up from the ground. Sam stood in the rain for a few more minutes, just basking in the silence, enjoying the white noise of the rain. He couldn't get the urge to pull his new brother into his arms and never let him go out of his guts, it was stuck there, and Sam couldn't help but wonder, if that was how Dean always felt.

John smiled brightly as his new "daughter" walked back into the house, soaking wet, and smiling like he knew a secret that no one else did.

"You two have fun?" John asked, setting down his book.

Dean turned around, surprised, before his eyes fell on his dad.

"Yeah, I lost my shoes though…" Dean pointed down to his bare feel.

"Mary had small feet too…" John whispered, luckily Dean didn't hear. "We'll go into town some time and get you some now shoes, all right."

"K'ay!" Dean…well, popped, if you will.

As Dean made his way up the stairs John watched him, was fascinated by the way the water clung his clothes to his new female frame. The sharp curves of his hips, the way they swayed side to side as he walked, as though tempting him. The shirt, silhouetting his new breasts, his nipples, most likely unknown to Dean himself, hard, and hot. Dean was so small, so easily lifted, so easily abused.

"Dad?"

"What?" John turned around to see Sam standing next to him, with a concerned look on his face.

"I've been talking to you for like ten minutes." Sam informed him.

"No you haven't, and what." John turned back to his book, trying to cover his shame.

"Find anything?"

"No."

"Oh," Sam walked up stairs, defeated; he thought they would have found something by now, anything.

Sam went upstairs to take his shower.

Just as Sam was reaching for the shampoo a very high-pitched scream sliced through the cabin, and both John and Sam were barging into a bathroom before their brains could register that they had moved.

Bad move.

"Get out!!"

Beauty, pure and radiant, was all John could think of as the door was slammed back onto his face and he was pushed backwards. It was Mary, her pink nipples, her smooth back, her lips, and the curls of hair over her pussy, perfect. But it only lasted a second, not nearly long enough.

John turned to see a very naked and much less erotic Sam standing behind him, looking panicked and flustered.

"You should put some pants on."

Sam looked down, looked up, and ran his skinny little butt way.

"Dean, what is it, what's wrong?" John knocked on the door, waiting for the beautiful creature to come back out.

"Just wait down stairs for me, okay?"

"Dean, please, just let me come in." John started to turn the door.

"No!" Dean held the door tight, not wanting his father to see him, the different him, the new him.

"Just-just wait down stairs for me."

"Dean." He wanted in. he wanted to see it, smell it, touch it.

"Please dad…" Dean begged pathetically.

John was about the try and convince him to let him in again when his other now fully clothed son, taped him on the shoulder.

"Come on dad." He waved him down the hall.

As John and Sam made their way down the stairs John started to calm down, the passion started to leave his body. His fingers unclenched and his head stopped spinning.

Sam watched his father closely, he seemed fine now but before, before he seemed…scary.

Nearly twenty minutes passed before Dean came down the stairs, shame faced and embarrassed.

"Um…" Dean refused to look up. "There's a thing."

"We're gonna need a little more then that Dean." John commented.

"On my thigh, there's a thing." Dean moved closer to the couch that Sam and John were on and exposed the inside of his left thigh to them.

Sam saw the odd cloche of a tattoo scattered about, all John saw was flesh, for a second, then he saw it too.

Dean had his boxers pulled up as high as he could muster them, but the tattoo was higher, and nearly half of it was cut off by the cloth, but if Dean pulled it up any higher then…

The tattoo looked like a series of different animals and cymbals, strings of claws and half stars flowing together.

Dean flinched when he felt his father tough his thigh, as did Sam.

"Did you just discover this?" He ran his fingers over the soft flesh, making Dean shiver.

"Yeah, what do you think it is?" Dean wanted to pull away, he hated this, being so exposed, but he wanted to be cured, he wanted to be a man again, he had to do this.

"I don't know…" John continued to run his fingers over Dean's thigh.

"I'll get the camera." Sam stated as he got up and went to his duffle bag. Even after he came back John was still touching Dean, and all Sam could comprehend was to get Johns hands off of his brother.

"Move, dad." Sam ordered, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

John hissed under his breath as he stood up, hiding his erection with his hands as he sat down, no one saw.

Dean relaxed as Sam touched him. His fingers were not nearly as rough or cold as their dads. They didn't scare him at all for some reason, he wasn't ashamed.

After a handful of pictures were taken Dean was finally allowed to go upstairs and put some pants on.

As Sam loaded the pictures onto the computer that small comfortable feeling from before was gone entirely. All that was left was a hot anger and a bugging need to get Dean out of the house. At first Sam thought it was all in his head, but he had gotten his proof, his had seen it with his own eyes, he had watched it coress his brother, blatantly bask in the memories lost in time.

The worst part was that Dean hadn't seemed to notice at all.

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REVIEWS FOR ME!!! I PROMISE there going to get much more twisted as time goes, that is just the type of story the late night child tells. Tainted onces father for the next chapter, will be hot. 


	4. Flesh of my Flesh

A/N: YES!! I bring you twisted!!! Took me three chapters but I finaly did it!! Anyways, for those of you who have read my work before this will be very familer to you, for those who havent, your in for a surprise!! HAHAHA

WARNING: character masturbation (and not the hot kind, the creepy kind, unless your into that sort of thing...)_

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_

_A marked man, all strew up in the rafters,_

_Swaying_

In his bed, in his own room, covered in darkness, he slid his fingers down his pants and wrapped them around himself.

His eyes clenched, his fingers cold, he bit deep into his lip, drawing blood.

_As though concaved inward_

_Over that last open sea_

His door locked, his sons asleep, he leaned into his own hand.

Memories flooded all around him, nearly drowning him. The way she looked when she was under him, the noises she made, how tight she was.

Her beauty, just like…

John grunted as a wave of pleasure ran over him.

He pushed reality out of his head, and gave into the sweet erotic lie, reality only hurt him, but the lie was so kind and inviting, like heroin in his veins.

_This chain-smoking propaganda _

_Colored crazy, colored insane, for all the rivers known_

He couldn't remember the last time he had done this, the last time he had been with a women, the last time he had been in love. Mary, she was suddenly so close to him, but a room away, just there, waiting, being.

The taste of sin slid down his throat, clung to his guts. It was as though god was trying to cast a human soul back into this sinning man, back into the man who craved the flesh of his flesh, but he could not.

_That half golden tassel that falls into your face_

_Of white winged angle strings_

He wanted her.

He wanted him.

He loved the lie.

_Harboring a false God_

_Telling false truths_

"Mary…" His hand moved faster.

The feeling of his sons thighs, his naked body, her naked body, wet. Mary, all around him, god, he loved he so much, he missed her so much.

Faster.

_This dream, mad from forever_

_That runs like honey down my back_

He was so close, she was so close.

"Mary..." Immense pleasure overthrew him, nipped at his shoulders, curved his spine.

And he came.

And he cried.

And from the skies God both pitied and loathed this creature.

_You may have a bloody heart_

_Do you want a bloody heart?_

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I know it's short. I'm sorry if this turns some of you off my story, but this is how I usually write, and for those who loved it, please keep reading and REVIEW!!!!!!!! 

The poem was mine.


	5. The tiger and sheeps dance

A/N: I know I'm kind of random sometimes with my twisted and funny, and this chapter is no exception, but its finally getting good.

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The next morning was greeted with the smell of breakfast, a real breakfast.

Two curios men puttered down stairs as they followed the sweet smell that could only be identified as pancakes.

In the kitchen, a female Dean, wearing an apron, was standing over the oven, looking to be, cooking.

"Dean?" John questioned, as Sam rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

Dean didn't even turn around. "Sit down, I'm almost done."

John and Sam did as they were told, as though trying not to break this odd event with anything, not even the sound of their own voices.

However as pancakes, bacon, eggs, and hash browns were placed on the table Sam had to ask.

"You can cook?"

"Have either of you ever wondered why you we're still alive?" Dean was only answered with confused looks.

"I feed you, food doesn't just appear cooked on the table." His family was so oblivious, he sighed.

Dean took a seat and started piling food onto his place, and both John and Sam followed suite.

"This is delicious!" Sam beamed at his brother.

Dean blushed as he looked back down at his plate, half finished, but entirely full.

John looked directly at his fake son, shame clouded his eyes, he was half blind. Maybe for the best. Maybe he wasn't supposed to see.

Sam watched Dean chew idly on his spoon, smiling around his eggs. He liked the way Dean looked right now, all innocent and perfect almost.

And for a second Sam couldn't help but notice that they were normal. They were eating breakfast, at the table, as a family. Sure they were surrounded by old books on curses and hoodoo symbols collaged the walls, but if you could forget that for a second if you tried, and if you did, you could see it, the family that once was, was a family again.

"We should go fishing."

Two sets of very confused eyes focused on the older man.

"We should what?" Sam and Dean wondered.

"Fish, there's a lake near by, I hear fishing's relaxing…"

Sam looked at Dean, and Dean looked at Sam.

"Sure…" Sam mumbled cautiously.

It is a known fact that fishing is considered relaxing. But there are exceptions to the rule, like say:

You have no idea how to fish, fishing's not relaxing..

Your father is an incompetent old man that can't understand the concept of "reel in", fishing's not relaxing.

You get the end of your fishing line caught at the bottom of the lake on god knows what, and after trying to pull it out doesn't work you jerk violently at it only succeeding in sending yourself and the taller boy next to you that you grabbed onto into the water, then and only then is fishing's not relaxing.

By the end of the alleged "fishing" if you can call it that, it was decided, they would never do that again.

"Fishing is relaxing my ass…" Was mumble to no one in particular.

The feeling of Dean's breasts against his arm. "Dad, you hold it like this."

His breath against his ear. "Pull it back, like this."

His fingers over his. "You turn this part."

His small body squirming under him. "No, Dean, its like this, you're the one doing it wrong."

His body, wet. His nipples, hard. His beauty, hers.

One son saw the lust, one son watched him like death. The other was innocent, the other was ignorant.

Sam kept Dean close on the walk back, he saw what John was doing, how he played dumb. The way he was looking at him, the way his finger barley touched, he watched it all play out like some sick game.

Sam could deny it no longer, he could no longer pretend it was all in his head, because now it was everywhere, and all he could do was see it.

Watching his father touch Dean like that made his teeth grind.

Half of everything was suddenly fake, half was a family; the other half was a sick perversion of a father wanting his son. Here in the forest the lie was hidden well, tucked deep in the underbrush and pinecones, but Sam saw it, Sam saw it all.

It was a disease that couldn't be healed, couldn't be cured, only denied and repressed, but until Dean's body was returned to him he was a prize that one man was willing to do anything to have.

And as Sam was consumed by sleep on the couch the tiger took his move, knocked lightly on the door that held his prize, and as the door opened the tiger smiled and lied a beautiful lie only a tiger can lie.

"Um…I kind of deleted the pictures on the camera…I need to take them again…"

The lamb smiled a smile only a lamb can, and unbeknownst to the sleeping dog downstairs, his protector, let the tiger in.

The tiger would eat plentifully tonight.

The lock clicked into place.

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I know, I'm crule, but I'm also inspired so expect a chapter soon!...or dont, I could be lying. REVIEW!!! Because now daddy touchss the boy inside the girl and we will all fall down...medocation is for pussys 


	6. Asleep in your bed of lies

A/N Ladies and gentlemen, the rape of Dean Winchester. Read this, feel this, this is good, this is where I'm good, freakishly good. So enjoy, because if this is what you love, then you will fuck this story.

WARNING: THE ABSOLUTE PERFECT RAPE OF DEAN WINCHESTER!!!! This is one of my favorit rapes, and i have some good onces. If you want a really good one read my Drake&Josh fic, Its my #1.

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Dean sat himself down in the desk chair that looked like it was stolen from a high school classroom. It was one of the plastic chairs with the hole in the back for some reason. He sat down, straddling the chair, the way he used to sit as a boy, now made him feel off.

"You deleted all the pictures?" The sheep asked, pulling some hair out of his eyes.

The tiger lied, "Yeah…I hate these stupid digital things, I don't see anything wrong with Polaroid's." The tiger danced a beautiful dance.

John was silent as Dean pulled his boxer shorts up, as he reveled the skin, her skin, the skin he wanted so badly his guts churned.

John walked over to his son and laid a hand on his thigh, a shiver ran up his pants and down his spine. This was what he had been waiting for all this time, his Mary back.

The camera flashed, Dean squirmed, wishing that Sam were here to do this.

"This is such an interesting cymbal, I have nothing on it at all." He moved his hand higher, "But we'll find something soon though."

A fear started to crawl over Dean, he couldn't understand it, this was his father, he was safe with him, it was what fathers did.

Dean looked down to see John staring up at him, and Dean smiled down, and that was what broke it, that shattered the thin line between Dean and Mary, the smile, that absolutely radiant smile, it was Mary's, there was no denying it, this was Mary.

"I missed you so much."

The smile was gone but Mary remained.

"Dad…" Dean started to pull away when a hand was placed on his back, and his chest was shoved into the back of the chair.

He was stuck.

"Dad! What are you doing, let me go!" Terror consumed Dean, cold chocking terror. Dean wanted out, Dean wanted away, Dean wanted Sam. He wanted Sam.

But before Dean could open his mouth and scream for Sam, it was over taken by another mouth, his fathers mouth.

His own flesh invaded him, Johns tongue assaulted his mouth, toughing everything, moaning into him this awful sound that he would never be able to get out of his lungs, his guts, no matter how hard he screamed.

Bile rushed up Deans throat, he was dying, he was sure of it, he was suffocating on his fathers air. Dean tried to push himself off of the chair, but this body was weak, this body was pathetic, this body was Marys.

Tears drain Deans eyes as he felt his fathers hands wander and move, over his thigh.

Dean wanted to scream in joy when he felt the hand leave his thigh, thinking perhaps his father had returned to him, would let him go, would let him run to Sam and crawl into his arms and never let go.

Dean felt his neck snap.

John's wet fingers snaked their way into the hole in the plastic seat and through his boxer shorts, Dean's father's fingers were in him, he sobbed.

John fingered Marys body just the way he remembered she liked it, first licking at them, warming them up, then running them over her clit.

John pulled his mouth away and spoke. "Yeah, Mary you like that don't you?" His voice was low and grainy.

"Pl-please dad stop, please-god-please-." His mouth was stolen from him again.

Mary felt just like how he remembered, and as she squired John knew that Mary's body still loved what he did to her.

Pleasure pulsated through Dean, this sick pleasure he wish never existed, he wished he never knew about, he wanted to die, he wanted to suffocate, he wanted his father to kill him.

John circled his middle finger around her clit, running over it again and again. She was so wet, so hot. God he wanted to be in her again.

Dean could only sob and beg desperately as his father got down on his knees in front of him, and took him into his mouth. John placed his hands on Deans back and ass, pulling him closer until his mouth met the sweet heat of Marys pussy, just like he remember.

He ran his tongue over Mary's clit and he felt her twitch, god how she loved this. She used to scream when he did this.

"Daddy.." Dean sobbed, drool falling from his mouth, his arms hung pathetically over the chair and he desperately reached to pull him away. There was no point.

John took his mouth away, but this time Dean didn't allow himself to hope that it was over, it was never going to be over, it was all just going to happen again and again over and over until he died.

"You want me in you don't you Mary?" John pulled Mary form the chair and to the ground, she pushed at him and begged no but John knew what she wanted.

"Oh, don't fight me Mary, I know what you want, I know what you love, shhh, there, there, just relax."

"Daddy…please…please…" Dean struggled as best he could, he was weak, so weak, why was he so weak?

"Daddy…" Dean started to shake as John opened up his pants and pulled out his hard cock.

It can't possible fit, Dean thought, it will never fit and he'll give up and stop and let me go this time, because it's too big. Right?

Dean didn't bother fighting as he was placed on his back on the hard floor, because it was all right now, it wasn't going to fit, and he would be let go soon.

John looked at Mary, she was so perfect, all laid out for him, given into the pleasure.

"God I missed you." John whispered into Marys ear as he entered her.

He fit.

Dean chocked.

It wasn't supposed to fit. He couldn't be in him, he couldn't.

He felt something suck on his nipple. It was in him, moving around, in and out, and it wouldn't stop. Why wouldn't it stop? Somebody make it stop!

The worst part, that absolute worst part, the pleasure wouldn't stop, it just wouldn't. it was still in him like his fathers air, all around him.

Time wouldn't stop passing, pleasure wouldn't stop coming, his father kept calling out his mothers name, he was fucking them both, he was in bed with both his father and his mother, and he couldn't move.

"Daddy don't-uhg-d-don't." Oh god it wouldn't stop, it was going to happen, please someone get it out.

"Mary…Mary…god…uh…Mary…your so…missed you….so much."

He was close.

She was close.

The family in the bed of lies.

"Daddy..daddy please….please…please-daddy I don't wanna, I don't, please stop now, I won't tell just- please…daddy I don't wanna….don't wanna.." Pleasure just wouldn't stop running over his spine, it felt so fucking good. God hated him, he wanted him to suffer. He wanted Sam, where was he? Couldn't he hear him screaming, was he screaming? Why wasn't he screaming? Scream damn you! SCREAM!

"Sam!!!!!"

Sam fell from the couch.

"Sam!!!!!"

It was Dean, Dean was calling him. And as Sam looked around the room and saw his father was not there, he knew.

John didn't stop, he couldn't stop, he was close, so close.

"Sam!!!!" Please god Sam hurry its coming, I am, I don't want to, save me, get it out.

"Dean!!!!" Sam banged on the door as he turned the locked knob over and over. "Get the fuck off of him!!!" Sam screamed at he hit the door harder.

It was too late. The orgasm hit Dean like a train, it shook him and worst of all, it made him scream. "Ah ah ah Ah AH AHH!!!!"

And then John screamed. "Maryyyyy!!!"

The door broke down and Dean looked through clouded eyes as Sam pulled his father off and out of him.

"Dean!" Sam fell to his knees over Dean and pulled him into his arms, tears in both their eyes.

"I couldn't stop it." Dean sobbed into his brother. "I didn't want to, I didn't want to, I-I" He sobbed uncontrollable as he was pulled into the safest arms he had ever felt.

Sam looked towards their father, who looked to have returned to the real world, as his eyes filled with disgust and he started to vomit on the floor.

"Oh god oh god oh god."

The room spun, the smell of vomit and the sound of sobs poisoned the air, a poison that even the dense forest could not harbor any longer as it filled the night air.

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REVIEW!!! Like I said, I'm freakishly good at this, I dont know why. Tell me what you want next, I want to rape him again in a bar, but then I dont. Who knows, I'll think of something.

FYI: Please poeple stop telling me to seek help, you think I must be a very strange person, but I'm really not all that strange at all.


	7. Help me

A/N: This is only the first vertion of this chapter. It will get better. Its very short...

Thanks for all the reviws!

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Dean bit down harder on the rope of the seatbelt, trying his hardest not to scream every time Sam made a sharp turn. He wanted to ask Sam to stop, to slow down, but at the same time he wanted to go faster, so fast it would rip his skin off.

"Its gonna be okay Dean, I swear to god, I will never let Anyone-" Sam cut his own voice off as he looked towards Dean.

His head was down, and he was biting down on the seat belt, his tiny half naked body rolled up in a small blanket. It was all so pathetic.

Constant flashes of their father continued to run through Sams head. The way he looked, the way he sounded, everything. It made him want to puke.

But Sams vomit was nothing compared to Deans. The contents in Dean's body that begged to be upchucked was so much worst, it was filled with John's air that was rotting his lungs, the taste of his fathers flesh clung to his mouth and tongue.

And when a particularly violent bump knocked a sickeningly white liquid from betweens Deans legs he could take it no more.

He needed it out.

"Sam stop, stop the car." Dean grabbed for the door handles, needing the door to open, needing to be let out.

"Dean-"

"Stop the fucking car!!!"

Sam was off the road in a burn of rubber, his fingers shaking. They couldn't stop, they couldn't afford to stop, Sam wanted to say, only to be cut off, by the sound of violent heaves.

Tears rolled down Deans face as the contents of his stomach was emptied onto the pavement.

"Dean…" Sam rested his hand on Deans back, wanting nothing more then to take him back into his arms again.

Dean clenched the leather seats like they were the only thing holding him up, the only think keeping him alive.

"It hurts Sam, it hurts really really bad."

The utter juvenile tone of Dean's voice broke Sams heart, and uncontrollably he wrapped his arms around his brother again and pulled his back into his chest. He ran his fingers through Deans hair as he rocked and gagged. It seemed to last forever.

"Sam it wont come out." A panic clung to Deans words.

"Its gonna be okay, don't-"

"No! It wont come out!" The strain of the gags had turned Deans voice hoarse, making him sound more like a man, more pathetic.

All Sam could do was pull Dean tighter to him and bury his head in his back. Dean deserved this, to break down.

"Everything's in me and I can fucking get it out! His fingers, his tongue, Him!! All of it, I cant get it out!" Dean rocked and tremored over himself, nearly falling out of the car. "It wont come out! Please God get it out!"

Sam sobbed into his brothers back as he whaled at the world, at the gods themselves. He begged and pleased for what felt like hours. And Sam refused to let go, he had to hold on, he just had to, because if he let him go, maybe…maybe he would lose him forever.

The way Dean screamed broke Sam's new back, shattering it to pieces.

Dean couldn't get it out no matter how hard he heaved, the air was still in his lungs, the semen still between his legs, he was taken over by another man that he couldn't get out of him.

"Sam…Sam.." Dean clawed at Sams arms, trying to get closer to him, trying to get into him.

All Sam could do was sob brokenly as his brother broke down. Dean ripped at the skin of his arms, drawing blood that he couldn't even feel.

"Get him out of me Sam, please get him out…" Dean begged, still gagging out the car door.

Sam choked on air, allowing his brother to crawl deeper into him.

The smell of burned rubber hovered in the air, as though trying to cover them up like the forest had. But it could do nothing.

"Fuck You!!" Dean screamed, to no one, to everyone.

Hours passed, vomit rotted, arms were clawed, boys were broken, anger and suffering mixed with burnt rubber.

Existed, Dean curled into Sam, burrowing deep into the larger mans arms.

Sam was still plagued with choking hiccups as Dean passed out on him, in him.

"It's going to be okay." Sam pronounced, his voice shivered.

He held his tiny brother in his arms, he held all the pieces, and he held all the sorrow. In the night air that soon overthrew them Sam made more promises that he could even begin to count.

He would protect Dean.

He would never let anyone Ever Ever hurt him.

John would pay.

* * *

Thanks for reading. I may not keep writing, I'm not getting all that many reviews.

PLEASE READ!!!!!!! I BEG YOU!!

There is genocide. It's in Darfur, and no one is doing anything. There has been as many as 50,000 deaths. Get up and do something, because no one else is. Give money, Give food, Give antything, just DO something. Help them.


	8. Dirty bath water

A/N: I apologize now cause this chapter really isn't that good but I wanted to get something done. So sorry it sucks…it will get better.

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John could not breath through the panic. His vision clouded in and out until eventually the lack of oxygen combined with the horrible shock of what he had done stole consciousness from him entirely, and he fell helplessly on the bedroom floor. A pair of Dean's boxers still griped tightly in his hand.

Dean was asleep. Barely. Constantly he tossed and turned and moaned out words Sam couldn't make out.

The man at the front desk had looked at Dean too long, it may have had something to do with the fact that he was unconscious in his arms, but it unnerved Sam none the less.

Every sound made Sam paranoid. Every crack the wood made, every squeak the bed springs made. Every sound warped into a sound their father -No! -That man had once made. The tree against the window was the sound of him trying to get in; the sound of the dripping sink was the sound of his socks on the floor. The terror was endless.

Dean moaned quietly and curled deeper into the comforter Sam had wrapped around him-her.

Sam couldn't stop himself from pulling Dean tighter into his arms. Sam would not let him go, last time he did…last time…never again.

"You're safe Dean."

Sam kept talking, he couldn't stop, the silence was too…terrifying.

"I'm going to keep you safe."

Sam considered turning on the television, but he didn't want to let Dean out of his sight, out of his arms for a second. He didn't want any sounds form the television to interferer with the other sounds.

'What now?' Sam thought to himself for the thousandth time. All their things, all their research was back…there. But they couldn't go back there, there's no way. Of course, that was a lie.

Hours passed. Sam watched paint peal off the wall. The sun fell and darkness stole the world and all that was left was a flickering streetlight outside their window.

Hours passed, Dean continued tossing and mumbling. Nothing could be done, Sam waited for the sun.

6:14, Dean woke.

He said nothing as he found himself woven deep in his younger brothers arms, and he couldn't help but think to himself how pathetic he had become.

How the mighty have fallen.

"Dean?" Sam thought he felt Dean tense in his arms.

Dean did not speak, he refused. He knew if he tried opening his mouth and talk all that would come out was a choked cry that was clawing at the back of his throat.

"It's all okay now Dean." Sam wanted to say more, but could think of nothing.

A rotten chill ran up Dean's back as the sound of his own name, suddenly he realized how much he hated his name. It sickened him.

"You-you can take a shower if you want." To get the smell of John off you…but Sam didn't say that last part…

Silent, Dean removed himself from Sam and walked, painfully, slowly, into the bathroom, and shut the door.

For the fist minute Dean didn't know what to do with himself. He forgot who he was and what he was doing, he forgot how to walk and what made the walls crack.

Slowly reality returned to him, and his feet began to move him. The shower was dirty, but cleaner then him. The water took too long to get hot, Dean fell to his knees before the water hit lukewarm.

Pathetic, and with all the strength he had left he dragged himself into the tub. It was only after he was wet he realized, he had clothes on. Clothes that were not his, on the body that was not his.

Dean hit the shower nozzle with the back of his palm and the water fell onto his filthy head. Unable to stand, he slid down on his back and looked up at the cracked ceiling and the water falling down on him.

Perhaps he could go the way of the turkey, if he was quiet enough. He shook that idea from his head; he couldn't do that to Sam.

He striped the wet cloths from his body and pushed them to the end of the tub. They clogged the drain, and the water rose around him.

Perhaps a good old fashion drowning, but he couldn't do that either.

Maybe if he stayed quiet Sam would forget he had a brother/sister and leave.

The soap was out of Dean's reach, to get it he would have to stand, and to stand he would need legs, and he had none of those things anymore.

Could he keep going? He finally had to ask himself. Could he really get up after this, or would this be his final fall? Could he face Sam again? Could he really drag himself back up, did he have the strength?

"Dean?"

Stop calling me!

Knock, knock. "Dean are you all right?"

Dean opened him mouth, nothing came out.

It was of no use, Sam came in, and Sam looked at him. Sam saw his naked broken female body again floating pathetically in a half filled tub of filthy water.

"Dean?"

Stop calling me that, Dean wanted to shout, but every time he opened his mouth, nothing would come out. Nothing that resembled words, just quiet sighs and moans.

Unable to do anything, for what felt like the thousandth time, Sam fell to his knees, much like Dean had, and pulled his wet dirty brother into his arms.

"I'm sorry." Sam whispered, barely audible over the water. "I'm so sorry, I- I."

Dean could not move, he could not take his brother into his arms and promise him things he knew he could not keep. All he had the strength to do was to keep his mouth shut and allow no water to get in, and to just keep breathing

Sam cried until the water turned cold, and only stopped when Dean began to shiver.

As Sam dressed Dean in the hotel robe, the last piece of dry clothing they had left, he finally allowed himself to say it out loud.

"We have to go back."

"…I know." The first words of the day have never been so bitter before.

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	9. Bar's

A/N: Not sure why I wrote this chapter, next one will be better. Also, no beta, you have been warned.

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Dean twisted the end of the spoon around in his mouth. It kept him from talking.

"Dean?" Sam tried again.

"Shut up Sam. Just shut up." The plastic spoon cracked in Dean's mouth. He could taste blood. He deserved it.

Sam looked back down at his 7-11 dinner of chips, candy, and a peach. An old peach, a peach he wouldn't have been able to eat under normal circumstances. The last thing he wanted in his system was a rotten peach.

For the last hour Dean still hadn't managed to get even half a spoon full of cereal into his mouth. He had spent most of his time splitting up the now soggy letters. He forced all the J's into a separate corner. But with his spoon now broken he had an excuse to stop pretending he was going to eat.

Sam couldn't stand it anymore.

"It's been three hours, I can't just sit here and not talk anymore!"

"Sam-" Dean started.

"Fuck!" The rotten peach splattered gracelessly on the wall, the pit made an unsettling crack as it hit the wall and rolled to the ground, where its roots would not grow, and it would soon die.

Dean watched without comment as Sam yanked angrily at his bangs.

"You're staying here." He would have whispered, if he wasn't so angry, so he screamed; "I'm going alone."

"No." Dean fended off another J from drifting into an S.

"I wasn't fucking asking!"

Dean's cereal splattered across the carpet. J's touching D's and F's touching everything else.

"I need a drink." Dean pulled himself up from the table. He was still dressed, he could leave, and no one would ask any questions this time.

"Fuck Dean, why are you doing this to me?"

The door slammed. Sam could do nothing.

So Sam began to cry, and he kept crying.

-

"Scotch." Dean liked that work, it meant something to him.

It made him happy when he was sad, it calmed him when he was angry, and most of all it helped him forget, all the things he hated remembering.

"You sure babe?"

"Scotch."

The bartender gave him a look before leaving. It made Dean feel like some kind of sweet food. And that made his skin crawl.

The bar had the standard scene. Pool, bikers, drunks. The perfect people to be around when you don't want to be asked any questions.

"There you go."

Dean wrapped his hand around the lukewarm glass, he knew his first gulp would be overeager, but he didn't expecting it to make him choke.

"You okay there honey?"

He didn't want the touch, but it came at him anyways. Big hands ran along his bruised back, nearly taking him over.

His chest was on fire, the alcohol spread through his lungs. As the last coughs passed through him Dean realized he liked the fire in his belly, and hit the counter with his fist, asking for another.

"I'm fine." He finally got a good look at the man. He was baby faced, and looked a lot like Sam. He needed this man gone; he would fuck with his head.

"You sure? You don't look so good." He grazed his hand along his forehead.

Dean made to get up when a voice shook the world behind him.

"She doesn't want a pussy" A leather clad biker pulled the man from off the stool. "She's already got one," Dean hissed as the man pointed to his crotch. "She wants a man, don't you baby?"

The leather jacket and boots must have given the wrong impression to the biker, or perhaps the right one as Dean sent one of his new fists into the mans face.

Dean already knew, that drunks would fight anyone, and just barely made it out of the way of the mans fist.

The bar stool was yanked from under him ,and Dean's head was sent into the bar counter.

"Get off her!"

Gender no longer mattered; fists flew in all directions, the fight permeated into the rest of the bar.

Dean managed to knock his first opponent out and began for another when he suddenly was lifted off his feet and dragged out the bar.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? That guy was huge!" The baby faced boy hauled him through the parking lot. "Everyone's fucking right, hot girls are crazy!"

The man panted hard and set Dean down on the street.

"Are you okay?" This man reminded Dean too much of Sam.

"I'm fine." Dean wiped the blood from above his eye brow.

"You need a ride home?"

"I'll be fine."

"So you've said."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me, just don't do that anymore."

The baby faced man turned and stumbled to his car. Dean watched him leave before returning to his car. His heat was beating too fast; his mouth would have been dry, if it wasn't filled with blood.

But he was not crying.

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	10. Daddy's Calling

A/N: Not sure why I wrote this chapter, next one will be better. Also, no beta, you have been warned.

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John was not sleeping. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Dean, Mary, and the blood. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his vomit covered hand.

The fever wrecked his body, death stood close, he invited him in, but death only hovered mockingly in the doorway.

The phone lay by his side, curser on Dean's name.

"I deserve no mercy." John whispered to himself.

SEND.

-

Sam was waiting for Dean. He wanted to yell at him, call him names, but it all fell through, because Dean was bloody, again. And Sam was not okay with it.

"Dean! What did you do!?" Sam screamed at 1:15 am.

"Fight."

Sam screamed again: "What the fuck is wrong with you!!"

Ring.

"You're fucking killing me, do you understand?"

Ring.

"Don't you fucking answer the phone Dean!"

"It's John."

"It's who?" Sam was suddenly confused, who was John? He only knew one John, and that was the John they used to call 'father'.-"John?!"

Ring.

"Take it." Dean forced the phone into Sam's hands. He did not want it.

"What do I do with it?" Sam's voice shook as he held the phone like it was something he had never heard of.

"I don't know." Dean moved farther back, away from the phone, from the name 'John'. He didn't want it anywhere near him.

Ring.

"Don't-don't answer Sam." Dean suddenly shouted.

Too late.

"What the fuck do you want?"

This was no good; Sam was too angry, sounds could be herd, Dean couldn't be in this room.

Sam wanted to stop Dean from running into the bathroom, but to do that he would have needed to say his name, and he was never saying Dean's name in front of John again.

"Go to hell! I'm not telling him any of that!"

Dean was back in the bath tub with his clothes on, trying not to listen. Failing. Falling.

"What are you talking about?"

Why was Sam asking questions? He was in a fucking bathtub and Sam was asking questions!

"Who's killing you?"

John was dying? Dean stiffened deeper into the tub, doing his best to hide. What was killing John?

"God!?" God? "Shut the fuck up!"

"Why did you call Dean?...He's not coming…He's not coming!"

"Don't die before I get there!"

The phone snapped shut, and from the sound was then thrown a few feet to the floor. Sam was leaving?

"Dean! Open the door."

It was not locked; Dean got out of the tub, and stumbled back to his feet. He made no move for the door.

Sam opened the door, he looked like he had been crying again.

John had made him cry.

"What Sam?" His voice wasn't scary.

"You're staying here."

"What's wrong with him, what did he say?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Sam!" This was driving Dean mad.

"I'm going, da-Johns sick, or something" Sam began at a murmur. "He needs or medicine…"

"Medicine…" Dean repeated the word to himself.

"I don't have to Dean."

"What do you mean?" Dean was confused.

"We don't have to get him the medicine, we don't. We- I, I can just go get our stuff and the research and go"

"You don't mean that Sam."

"No", Sam rested his hands on his brothers small shoulders, "I'm completely serious, we can let him die."

"No!" The panicked yell startled both Dean and Sam. Dean pulled back and hid his eyes, "I mean I don't…we can't…let him die."

"We can!"

"No Sam we can't!" Dean was nearly crying. Why was Sam making him say these things when he was still filled with so much hate? "We just fucking can't, okay?"

"Dean-"

"We're leaving now Sam." Dean turned to make for the door.

The whisper was unexpected. "Please stay here Dean, please."

"I can't Sammy, I just can't."

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	11. Tie a yellow ribbon

A/N: It's not long...sorry

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Dean was afraid. He fisted one of his already bruised breasts. He wanted to throw up, and use it as an excurse to run back to the motel.

Sam was driving, Sam needed to drive, Dean couldn't have driven, Dean could barely breathe.

As every familiar landmark passed Dean flinched and squeezed harder, but he could not close his eyes. They stayed open, awake.

He didn't know what to call the place they were going. it was a house, it had all the necessity's a house needs, but it was not a home; no place to him was home.

"Sam can I-" Dean suddenly started talking, for the first time in a long time. "Stay in the…"

"In the car Dean?" Sam finished, making his last left.

"No." Dean lied.

"You can stay Dean." Sam couldn't look at Dean. He was too close, if he looked at Dean he would remember everything too well, and he would let his father die.

Dean was shamefaced. He rolled the bottle of medicine around in his hands. he had been stupid, he shouldn't have held it the whole way. If John did something, he would hate himself; hate himself for not throwing it out the window when he had the chance.

That was a lie, he hated himself already.

They were there, the house was dark, and it made no sounds at all. It held only bad memoires and a half dead man.

"You still have it Dean?"

"Yes." Dean choked, he still had it. He was letting his father live.

"Here." Sam put out his hand, still not looking at his brother, and took the bottle.

"Sam I-"

"Don't Dean, just let me do this."

Dean looked away as Sam left the car. Watched him walk to the door and open it, before going inside. Sam never looked back, which was something Sam usually did.

Dean was alone.

-

"John!" The scream was more for Sam; he could already see the only light on was in the bathroom.

Even Sam was surprised when he saw John. His sin could be seen everywhere, and it looked like it was killing him.

"This is your fault you know?" Sam threw the bottle at John. It rolled pathetically along the white floor.

"I know." John curled on the ground to get a better look at Sam.

Sam watched his father struggle with the top before opening it.

Sam walked down stairs and began packing. He got everything as fast as he could, and nearly shattered when he went into Dean's room to get his things. The chair was still on the floor, bent, deformed, broken.

Sam looked in on what was once his father for the last time.

"Is Dean-?" John was in the bathtub. Reminding him if Dean.

"He's not here." Sam couldn't remember ever being this angry "He's the only reason you're still alive, I was going to let you die."

"Can I…can I see him?"

"He's not here."

"Please?"

"I said he's not here."

"Dean please, daddies sorry!" John began to shout.

"He's not-"

"Daddies sorry! Please come back Dean. I love you!"

"John!"

"I just miss your mom so much, and I know you miss her too. I miss her all the time and when I saw you I just couldn't stop myself. You were so much like her already Dean." The madness was in Johns eyes again. "Daddy doesn't want to miss you too Dean, please, you have to come back. I know you still love me. We can still be together, we can be special, we-"

"You sick fuck!"

"He's mine Sam, he always will be!"

"No he's-"

"I am his destiny Sam!"

A sudden crash was heard stumbling down the stairs.

Sam ran from the room to look down the hall, and only in a small flash of light did he catch the bottom of Dean's shoe as he ran.

"Dean! Stop!"

"Dean! Dean!" John began shouting madly over and over as his last and final son condemned him once and for all.

The front door slammed shut as Sam ran down the stairs.

The moon light caught Dean out the door, and when Sam made it onto the porch, he was no where to be found.

"Dean!" My brother.

"Dean." My son.

Was gone.

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to be honest, after this chapter i have jack...so...you guys seem to like it, what do you want?


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